Those times I’d visit the dark alone, Â
refused all offers of a light, known Â
to cast shadows that might fool the eye–Â
such a trusting one like mineÂ
young and so willing to believeÂ
every outlandish thing he’s told–Â
it’s a God who if you follow Â
might follow you as well.
So far, I have only earned this talisman, Â
given to all who come of age:Â
Me’chayil el Chayil, the congregation assuredÂ
May you go from strength to strength–Â
though this would never be my luck or right.Â
Then, other voices tried to buck me up:Â
L’dor v’dor–such little use, this talk Â
of generations in wait.Â
What about me? the here and now, I say,Â
as bodies float by, mostly face down.Â
But these are the friends I had known.  Â
Meantime, this little boat takes on water–Â
my own frantic bailing keeps me afloat. Â
Gift of a God who provides the comfort Â
such mindless work invokes? Â
